The New Avenger

Information

Percy's POV:

I can't live like this anymore, hiding behind layers and layers of lies. The world isn't ready for demigods, but Peter Parker is. Peter Parker is ready for the truth because he deemed me the same. The world is changing and everyone in it has to accept that. They aren't ready though. Peter, on the other hand, he's already seen part of what this world truly is. Why not let him see a little more? "Look, Peter, I know this is going to sound crazy but-" 

"Peter, we may have gotten some information on the guy who took your aunt." Steve bursts in, urgency clouding his features. Tension is crackling in the air but Rogers doesn't seem to notice until after he's said his piece, and by then it's to late. Peter seems torn between annoyance and hope. Annoyance because he actually wanted to know what I had to say and hope because, well, his aunt is missing. I guess he's forgotten the whole "no news is good news" thing. To be honest in his situation I probably would've too. 

For my part I'm glad for the interruption. I am a demigod, but it is not my secret to tell. Hundreds, thousands, of others could suffer if this secret got out. And to stop it getting out? Peter might be killed by some well meaning half-blood trying to protect our way of life. Except maybe this hiding is wrong. Sure, we aren't like them, but we're more the same than we are different. Why does it have to be this way, these divides, these age old feuds, all this hate? I don't understand. I don't understand what makes them more, or less. What makes us more or less. Just because we aren't the same doesn't mean hatred is inevitable. Except it does. Every person who isn't like all the rest is prosecuted, ridiculed, destroyed. And it has to be this way because it has been this way for an age and as such it is doomed to say this way for another. 

"Was I interrupting? I'm sorry, if you'd like I can come back in a bit?" Steve seems rather flustered, and for good reason. Peter looks downright murderous.

"If the information was important enough to burst in here for then I don't think it can wait a bit." Peter growls. I almost feel bad for Steve, he's doing a great impression of a kicked puppy. Actually, that's not true. I don't almost feel bad for Steve, I do feel bad for him. However, I might be biased seeing as he did sort of save me from reveling a secret kept since ancient times.

"What I think Peter meant to say was "Yes Captain Rogers, I would love to hear the important information that has been gathered on the disappearance of my aunt, who I am very worried about. I am very grateful that you are devoting so many resources towards the search for her."" Once again it's my turn to clean up. Sometimes I sound bitter. And you know what, sometimes I am bitter. Sometimes I look back on my life and wonder what, exactly, I did to deserve this. I know that I didn't sign up for this. When my parents conceived me they most certainly did not consult me, nobody ever asked me if I wanted this. Yes, I know I'm being bratty. But guess what. I. Don't. Care. You know why? Because I didn't sign up for this, any of this. Everyday I live it, the constant fear for my life. Just because it's my normal doesn't mean it is normal. It seems like my normal doesn't line up with most people's view point. 

I'm not bitter about this though, cleaning up after Peter. Here's the thing. For years people have been cleaning up after me. I've been petty and stupid and just plain dumb but guess who got to clean it all up. One hint- it wasn't me. So maybe for once I can be the solution instead of the problem. Wouldn't that be nice?

"Yeah, yeah, that's what I meant." Peter mutters distractedly, running his hand through his hair, "Sorry Captain, I didn't mean to be rude, sorry."

"Don't worry about it son." Steve, to his everlasting credit, says kindly. "You want to step outside with me for a minute?" 

Whatever he's about to say I'm not supposed to hear. It shouldn't hurt, not while I'm basically being held unofficial prisoner here. But it does hurt. Because for a moment I'd almost fooled myself into thinking that Peter and I were friends. For a moment I'd let myself believe that Peter wasn't fishing for information, that instead we were speaking as friends or at least peers. But we're not, and Cap, purposely or not, made that perfectly clear.

"Whatever you have you can say in front of Percy. We can trust him." Peter lifts his head defiantly, staring me right in the eye, daring me to contradict him. Every cell in my body tries to, tries to say that they shouldn't trust me, that if they do they'll just die and I'll be heralded as a hero. But I don't say a word. 

Once Peter determines that I'm not going to argue with him he turns his glare onto Steve. I've got to give Peter credit, he can really glare. Maybe it's one of his superpowers. It's kind of sad that I don't know who Spiderman, he, is. For me it's a blessing to have nobody know that I'm some sort of "hero". It's kind of freeing, stepping out into the world and not having to worry about any expectations on my shoulders except that I get expelled from every school I go to. That's easy to live up to. This hero stuff? Not so much.

"Well, Percy, it's good to meet you at last. Formally, I mean." Steve grins, slightly confused. But he's a soldier, in his mind it isn't his place to ask questions. Instead he sticks out his hand for me to shake and I oblige, "I'm Captain Steve Rogers, and you can call me just about anything you can get from that."

"How about Robby?" I wonder aloud.

"I'm not quite sure how you got Robby out of that." 

"Rogers, Robert, Robby." I smile, "Simple."

"Well, that is, an interesting nickname." The good Captain looks thoroughly confused. 

"Okay, so what have you found about Aunt May?" Peter asks, changing the subject very deliberately. Still, it's hard to miss the desperation in his voice. 

"We had some agents canvassing the post office where the letter was sent from. getting that location was a battle of its own. However, despite the fact that it was almost statistically impossible that anything would be found the Postal Worker remembered a young female having come in and mailing a letter about the time when our letter would have been sent." Steve shrugs.

"Why would a young female be memorable? And why would she be of importance?"

"When S.H.I.E.L.D was taken over and the Project Insight helicarriers crashed much of DC was left in ruins. Nobody was sure who they could trust, but a few groups, like the S.T.R.I.K.E team, were known to be Hydra. One of the S.T.R.I.K.E members, Jake Rollins, was know to have escaped. In the aftermath Natasha, Sam, and I were trying to figure out how to help round up and rouge Hydra agents. Then, right on the news, there was a girl helping Jack Rollins out of the rubble. In hind sight she could've been anyone, but at the time I assumed she had to be Hydra. I was wrong." Steve looks away in shame but then clears his throat to continue. This is his punishment to himself. "I arrested the girl and, due to the nature of her crime and its relation to S.H.I.E.D and Hydra, she was imprisoned without a trial. She was broken out of jail and never heard from again. Until now."

For a moment there is quiet, processing the fact that Captain America had messed up this badly. But somebody needed to speak, to called out the facts that didn't make sense.

"How do you know it's the same person? And for that matter how do you know she wasn't Hydra?" I don't know who or what Hydra is, but the question seems reasonable.

"The girl was 18. Her name was Jocelyn and she was 4'10". She volunteered in her free time. She took advanced classes and was planning on going to Penn State the next year. In her free time Jocelyn loved to draw and paint and doodle- anything to do with art. And she'd make it look effortless. Five years before her dad was killed in Afghanistan and she wanted to honor him in what she did. She was just a kid, a senior in high school. She had friends, lots of friends. But she didn't let it get to her head. When you looked up "good kid" in the dictionary there was a picture of her. When I arrested her I threw all that away. And you know what? She didn't just not do anything wrong, she was trying to help people." Self-hatred. That's what Rogers was feeling, projecting. But he had done no more wrong than the rest of, he was no more a villain. The again, it doesn't matter what someone really is. All that matters is how they're seen, by themselves, by others. Truth has no place in this world.

A/N

Sorry if I use maybe for every other word, it seems like I do. I do go back and change a bunch of them. At this rate I ought to just change the name of the story to Maybe and make every single word maybe. Sounds like a lovely plan.

Hope you're having a wonderful summer break if you're out (however, I'm bored out of my skull so I don't blame you if you're not).